


tonight the highway's bright

by Springsteen



Series: racing in the street [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Street Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16146173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springsteen/pseuds/Springsteen
Summary: He’d only met Gabe a few times, and if both times had been in expensive cars, driving around Denver at night, that was what Tyson did with a lot of his free time. Some people had book clubs or played intramural sports or whatever. Tyson drove. Apparently, so did Gabe.this is a street racing au. there's romance and fast cars and letterkenny references.





	tonight the highway's bright

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [dalmatienne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalmatienne/pseuds/dalmatienne) in the [boysarehot](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/boysarehot) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Bad Boy Illegal Street Racing AU. You know what I'm talking about. That's right: our very own Tyson Barrie, TBear, T-Beauty, challenging big tall boys to car racing and putting his money where his mouth is. Give me rookies as hype-men/hopeful protégés. Give me, "Hey princess, are we doing this?" Give me overly theatrical throat-slash intimidation tactics. Give me Dramatique (TM) all-black ensembles.
> 
> Am I asking for The Fast and the Furious: Denver Drift? Maybe. I've never seen any of those movies.
> 
> * * *
> 
> I had so much fun writing this fic. many thanks to aj & andi for beta reading and to the entire discord for making the offseason fun. The title is from bruce springsteen's "racing in the street" and if you really want to get in the mood of this fic let [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJYOMFayruw) play in the background while you're reading.

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a single dude in possession of a Gallardo drives like a total asshole. That explained nothing about Landeskog, who drove a fucking _souped up Volvo wagon_ like it was an F1 car. Then again, Tyson never should’ve expected anything else from him. It did explain everything about Cole, though, idling at the traffic light in a bright orange convertible and grinning at them from behind mirrored sunglasses.

“You know you’re better than him,” Tyson said to Nate. This wasn’t the first night he’d spent sitting in the passenger seat of Nate’s Aston keeping an eye out for cops and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. “He knows you’re better than him. This is pointless.”

“Come on, have some fun,” Nate said, glancing over at him. The opposite light turned yellow. Cole revved the Lamborghini, since he clearly loved nothing more than showing off. Tyson rolled his eyes as the traffic light turned green, grabbing the door as Nate floored it. Literally no one was a faster driver than Nate; everyone knew that, but some people still liked to try and beat him. Idiots.

“Stop pouting because Gabe’s not out tonight,” Nate said once the orange Gallardo had disappeared in the rearview.

“I’m not pouting,” Tyson argued. 

“You parked your car when you didn’t see him after ten minutes.”

“Yeah, I’m not wasting my time on these chumps,” Tyson said, turning on the radio. He switched the station a few times, leaving it on a rap song he knew Nate liked and hoping it would distract him from their conversation.

It wasn’t like Tyson got into street racing because of Gabe. He was just an added benefit of Tyson’s favorite hobby. Tyson had been addicted to speed ever since he learned to drive, the wide open highway in front of him and the engine roaring in his ears. He’d only met Gabe a few times, and if both times had been in expensive cars, driving around Denver at night, that was what Tyson did with a lot of his free time. Some people had book clubs or played intramural sports or whatever. Tyson drove.

* * *

Tyson met Gabe at one of Josty’s parties earlier that summer. Tyson Jost was a nice enough kid, even if he had more money than driving skills. He threw a lot of parties, an excuse to show off his car or to show off his friends’ cars or to play shitty music way too loud. His big house out in the suburbs was filled with people and music and bad ideas that turned out slightly magical. It was pretty late and Tyson was alone out on the porch, drinking a beer and wondering if he should try and find Nate or Josty or somebody. There was definitely a couple making out on the lounge chairs in the yard, but Tyson was mostly ignoring them. 

“Nice night,” somebody said. Tyson looked up at the guy who’d just walked outside and wondered if Josty was shallow enough to only make friends with ridiculously attractive people. Seeing this guy was strong evidence to support that theory. “Mind if I sit here?” he asked.

“Uh, sure,” Tyson said. He watched as the guy sat down in the chair next to him, taking in the width of his shoulders and the way the lights from the party made his blond hair shine. “I’m Tyson.” He introduced himself, sticking his hand across the space between them and realizing too late it was damp from holding his drink.

“Gabe,” the guy said. His hand was warm and strong in Tyson’s. “Nice to meet you, Tyson.” 

They sat there in silence for just long enough that Tyson started to panic, thought Gabe might think he was a boring person which he _totally was not_ , and started talking. “So,” he said slowly, trying to think of anything to talk about. “You know Tyson? Not me, I mean. Josty.”

Gabe shrugged, smiling a little. “He’s a friend of a friend,” he said.

“Cool cool cool,” Tyson said, feeling anything but cool. “I’ve known him basically since he moved to Denver. I mean, he’s always throwing these huge parties, it’s kind of hard not to run into him eventually.” He took a drink, trying to save himself from oversharing.

They were quiet again for a few minutes. Tyson figured that was it, he’d blown his chance with the hottest guy he’d ever seen. Gabe finished his beer and leaned back in his chair, looking out into the yard. He was probably wondering how to leave without making Tyson feel like a total loser. He looked considerate like that. 

Tyson was too busy feeling sorry for himself to notice Gabe was looking at him. Once Tyson looked up, Gabe smirked. “So, have you seen the garage?” he asked. 

That definitely wasn’t a question he expected to hear. Tyson had actually been in Josty’s garage a few times, enough to know it wasn’t really anything special, aside from the 911. “Is that a pick-up line?” Tyson asked. “Because I actually wouldn’t mind getting out of here.”

Gabe raised his eyebrows. “It wasn’t, but okay.” The only reason Tyson didn’t smack himself in the forehead was because he knew it would make him look like more of a loser. He wouldn’t say that he had great game but normally he wasn’t this much of a disaster. There was just something about Gabe that made him feel off-balance, like he had something to prove.

“Well, come on then,” Tyson said, standing up. “Show me the garage.”

As Gabe stood up, he slid his hand across Tyson’s back, gently pushing him towards the door leading into the kitchen. Along the way Gabe picked up two more beers and stopped to say hi to a bunch of people. Nate was standing with his back to Tyson, talking to a tall blond guy who waved excitedly at Gabe when they walked past. “Hey, Mikko,” Gabe called, not stopping. He threw his arm around Tyson’s shoulders and navigated through the crowded kitchen. Tyson opened the garage door and flipped on the lights, letting the door close behind them.

The noise of the party was muffled enough that Tyson heard bottle caps hit the floor when Gabe opened the beers he’d grabbed. 

“Well this is cozy,” Tyson said, accepting the bottle Gabe offered. The fluorescent lights took a minute to warm up, the stark white light shining on the sleek curves of Josty’s bright blue 911. Next to it, where his Range Rover was usually parked, was a dark red Ferrari Tyson had never seen before - and it was definitely the kind of car he’d remember. 

Gabe left his untouched beer on a shelf and walked over to the car. “Open the garage door,” he said to Tyson as he opened the car door and got into the driver’s seat.

Tyson stared at him. “Are you seriously stealing Josty’s car?” The car was truly gorgeous. Tyson wanted it, but stealing a car like that would leave him feeling bad for the owner. No one deserved to lose a car that spectacular.

“We’re just going for a drive,” Gabe said. He leaned over to open the glove compartment and retrieved the keys, popping them in the ignition. “Coming?”

He had no idea how to react to the sudden physical manifestation of all his wildest dreams right in front of him. “Are you drunk?” he asked. He couldn’t let anyone crash this car, much less the maybe man of his dreams. 

“I had one beer,” he said. “You can bring yours if you want, though.”

Tyson rolled his eyes. “So we can get pulled over? I don’t think so.” He leaned back against the house door. He was pretty sure if he got in that car, he’d fall in love. He wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, but his life would definitely be less complicated if he didn’t.

“I think we’d be okay, I have friends in high places,” Gabe said, shrugging. “You coming or what?”

After a few more seconds of deliberation, Tyson hit the button for the garage door. Gabe grinned and turned the key. There was no way Tyson could say no now, not after he’d heard the sound of the engine catch and roar to life. Not with the way Gabe was looking at him from the driver’s seat, like the whole world was theirs for the taking. He left his beer next to Gabe’s on the shelf and got in the car. 

They were quiet as Gabe backed out of the garage and down the driveway. Tyson was too busy appreciating everything about the car - the way the seat pushed his shoulders back and pulled his legs down into the footwell, the smooth leather of the center console, the rumble of the engine that announced this car was very fast and very expensive - to notice much else until they were several blocks from Josty’s place, heading farther out away from the suburbs. 

“So,” Tyson said, once it had been quiet long enough that it was starting to feel awkward. “Friends in high places, huh?”

“I have a couple friends in Denver PD,” Gabe said. The street lights flickered orange light across his face as he drove, smoothly turning onto the highway entrance ramp. He glanced over at Tyson and grinned. His eyes were back on the road as he sped up the ramp and onto the highway, easily merging into the left lane. This late the road was pretty much deserted.

They hadn’t been on the road very long, but it was easy to tell Gabe knew how to drive well and that he loved it. His hands rested over the top of the steering wheel, relaxed even as he accelerated way over the speed limit. It was bad enough that Gabe was ridiculously attractive. Tyson could’ve handled that much. But he was confident and capable and a great driver, and all of those things combined were just too much. He was definitely going to fuck this up somehow.

“Guess you’ve stolen a lot of Ferraris?” Tyson asked. Perfect people didn’t exist - there had to be something about Gabe that would make Tyson hate him, like being a car thief or thinking karaoke was stupid. 

“I’ve driven this car quite a bit,” he said, glancing over at Tyson. “Why?”

“Why?” Tyson repeated. “Because you obviously know what you’re doing. It’s not like any idiot can take turns that fast and not fuck it up.” 

As if proving his point, Gabe calmly steered the car around a curve in the highway. They had to be doing at least 80. The Denver suburbs faded away as they headed further up into the mountains. The road hugged the side of the mountain and there was a steep drop-off on the other side of the guard rail. “Like that? That was pretty reckless.”

Gabe grinned. “Well maybe I am a little reckless,” he said. 

Tyson stared at him. He would’ve thought he was dreaming, that this entire thing was an elaborate daydream that someone would interrupt any second, except he’d never felt so alive. He looked out the window at the city skyline, still bright enough to block out the stars. Typical - after twenty minutes with Gabe, he was already thinking like a stupid character in a romantic comedy. In another ten minutes he might start planning their wedding, and then they’d really be in trouble. 

“Who _are_ you?” he asked.

He grinned but kept his eyes on the road. “Gabe Landeskog. Esquire,” he said.

Tyson frowned. He was starting to get the impression Gabe thought very highly of himself. He couldn’t blame him - he would too if his face looked like that. “Like the magazine?” he asked, confused. 

“No, I’m a lawyer,” Gabe said. “Esquire is like a… you know what, forget it. Yeah. I’m a lawyer.” He swerved across two lanes to take an exit ramp, the first time that night he didn’t seem in total control. When Tyson looked over at him, he noticed his cheeks were faintly pink, like he was blushing.

“Wait a minute, are you trying to impress me?” The blush on Gabe’s face darkened. It was adorable. 

“I’m definitely not _trying_ to impress you,” Gabe scoffed. They were driving slower now, the road narrower as they wound through trees and past trail heads that led deeper into the woods. Gabe turned into a parking lot and turned off the car, the night quiet around them without the rumble of the engine.

Tyson glanced out the windshield and grinned at him. “Sure, you’re not trying to impress me at all,” he said. “Okay.”

Gabe sighed.

He’d brought them up to Lookout Mountain, Denver spread out below them and the mountains falling away in the distance. So Gabe was a great driver, a lawyer with an ego, and apparently he was also a romantic. 

“If you’re gonna be a jerk I’m gonna leave you here,” Gabe said. “You can walk back to Jost’s place.”

“Please don’t leave me here,” Tyson said, leaning across the center console. “I’ll get eaten by a mountain lion and then you’ll feel bad.”

Gabe raised his eyebrows. “We just met an hour ago, I wouldn’t feel that bad,” he said. “You could be a terrible person.”

“Oh my god,” Tyson said. “You are such an asshole.” Gabe didn’t even try to deny it, just smiled again, leaning closer to Tyson with one hand still draped over the steering wheel. 

“Pretty sure you’re into it,” he said quietly. 

Tyson definitely was. He meant to say something clever and funny in response but what he said instead was, “Am I that obvious?” God, he sounded pathetic.

“It’s cute,” Gabe said. 

“I am not cute,” Tyson said. “I’m totally hot, come on.” 

“Yeah, you are,” Gabe said, drawing his fingers along Tyson’s jaw. “Why do you think I asked you to check out the garage?” Tyson’s heart was pounding. There were only a few inches between them now. The backseat was tiny, but Tyson could deal with it if it meant hooking up with Gabe in a Ferrari.

Tyson’s phone buzzed loudly in his pocket, but he ignored it. It was probably Josty, wanting to race. The joke was on him, since Gabe had taken his new car half an hour ago. His phone buzzed again.

“Are you gonna get that?” Gabe asked.

“No,” Tyson said, dragging his hands through Gabe’s stupidly perfect hair. He really had no intention of looking at his phone until it buzzed again, twice in a few seconds. “Yes. Sorry,” Tyson muttered as he shifted around so he could take his phone out of his pocket. When he looked at his phone, his screen lit up with another text from Nate.

_Where did u go?_  
_Are u ok?_  
_Did you go home already?_  
_I told you I’d drive you home_  
_Please tell me you’re not doing something dumb_

Nate always sent about six texts when he could’ve sent one. Tyson should’ve guessed that was what was happening and ignored him. Instead he texted him back, hoping Nate would let it go once he responded.

_Well I’m not doing anything now thanks to you_

“You need to get back?” Gabe asked. 

“No, it’s fine,” Tyson said. As he went to put his phone back in his pocket, Nate texted him again.

_Oh shit sorry_  
_My bad_  
_You still need a ride home?_

“It’s fine,” Gabe said. He started the car again, any of Tyson’s protests drowned in the engine noise. “We can still have fun, right?” Gabe grinned. 

“For sure,” Tyson said. He’d barely gotten the words out when Gabe took off, the engine deafening compared to the quiet earlier as the car flew down the winding roads back to the highway. “Hey, have you ever been in love?” he asked.

Gabe frowned. “Tyson, I like you but we just met like an hour ago,” he said.

Tyson laughed, awkward and too loud. “No, I meant - dude, I am in love with this car.”

“Oh,” Gabe said. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice.” He slowed down just enough to turn onto the entrance ramp, revving the engine as they sped onto the highway. 

“Pretty nice?” Tyson repeated. “Are you kidding? What, mister hotshot lawyer over there drives a Koenigsegg every day or something?”

“No,” Gabe said, laughing. “You really think I’m a hotshot lawyer?”

“Well,” Tyson said, “You’re driving a Ferrari. You’re wearing a fancy watch to a house party at Josty’s place, which I would say is not exactly the classiest occasion. Plus you’re wearing a nice shirt and cologne. So yes, hotshot lawyer for sure.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever,” he said. “Maybe I’m just trying to impress people.”

Tyson snorted. “I thought you weren’t trying to impress me,” he said. He could tell Gabe was getting annoyed, that somewhere along the line their conversation had gone from flirty banter to antagonizing each other. It was still kind of flirty, in Tyson’s opinion, but he didn’t know Gabe well enough to tell if he thought the same. 

“Fine,” Gabe said after a few minutes passed in silence. “What do you do, if you’re so impressed by me being a lawyer?”

“I’m impressed by your driving, not your job,” Tyson said before he could think better of it. Gabe smirked. “I work at a car dealership. Selling cars, not working on them.”

“Oh, so you’re a used car salesman?” 

“No I am _not_ ,” Tyson argued. “But sometimes we do sell used cars. Stop looking at me like that, we can’t all fight for truth and justice, and you don’t have to be such a jerk about it.”

“I think you’re the one who’s being a jerk,” Gabe said.

“Just shut up and drive,” Tyson said. Gabe looked over at him, his expression dark. He didn’t need to be told twice. If Tyson thought he’d been driving fast earlier, it was nothing compared to now. At least Gabe knew a good lawyer when he got pulled over for doing 50 over the speed limit. Tyson was equally impressed and turned on. He wanted to hate Gabe for it, but he didn’t. He just wanted to keep pushing him, see what else he was capable of. See if he could get him riled up enough to agree to race one night.

“Wow, guess you really want to get away from me,” Tyson joked. Gabe turned off the highway, tires squealing around the corner.

“You need to get back to the party, right?” he asked. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Tyson mumbled, leaning back in the seat. He didn’t have to get back since Nate stopped texting him, but the mood from earlier had vanished and he would feel stupid asking Gabe to turn back now. 

Gabe pulled into the driveway. Tyson left him with the car still idling. He knew he’d say something stupid if he didn’t just walk away - some desperate comment or an apology he didn’t actually mean for no reason other than feeling guilty for killing the mood. He wasn’t even mad at Gabe, he was just mad at himself. 

“Wish you weren’t so fuckin’ awkward, bud,” Tyson muttered to himself, rubbing his hands over his face. 

He stomped up the front porch, forcing himself not to look back at the driveway. Josty was leaning against the railing, talking to Nate and a vaguely familiar guy with bright red hair. “Nice Ferrari,” Tyson said. “Where’d you get it?”

“It’s Landeskog’s,” Josty said slowly. “I saw you guys get back, you didn’t know it was his?”

Tyson spun around just in time to see Gabe pull into the garage, the door already closing again. “No, I didn’t know that,” he said, feeling like an idiot. He turned to Nate. “You ready to go?” he asked.

Nate shrugged. “Sure,” he said. They said their goodbyes and left, Tyson thinking of Gabe the entire time. He threw himself into the passenger seat of Nate’s car, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Are you okay?” Nate asked.

Tyson frowned. “Do you ever meet somebody who’s so perfect that you can’t stand it and it kind of makes you want to destroy something?”

“Uh, no,” Nate said slowly. “Ferrari guy?”

He blew out a breath. “Yeah, Ferrari guy. With his perfect hair and his stupid smile and his ridiculous car. Who does he even think he is? Who drives a Portofino to a house party and then parks it in the garage?”

“Sounds like something Josty’s friends would do,” Nate said. Tyson made a face at him. “Okay you’re right, all of Josty’s friends would park in the driveway so everyone could tell them how cool their car is.”

They were most of the way home when Nate said, “Hey, I’m sorry about whatever I interrupted between you two.”

Tyson shrugged. “Yeah well, it’s not…” He didn’t know what it wasn’t. Not a big deal because he crashed and burned on his own anyways? Would’ve been nothing more than another hook-up at a party? Just not meant to be?

Nate punched his shoulder softly. “I’m sure you’ll see him around,” he said. “And hey, if I had a Ferrari, I wouldn’t take just any random guy at a party for a ride.” He stopped the car in Tyson’s driveway.

“Thanks, buddy,” he said, hitting Nate’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Nate said. “Night, Tys.” 

He stood outside for a minute, watching Nate’s black car disappear down the street and hoping he was right about seeing Gabe again.

After that, if Tyson spent a lot more nights driving around the streets of Denver looking for a dark red Ferrari, it wasn’t like anybody else knew about it. No matter where he looked, he didn’t see Gabe’s car for weeks. He was driving home late one night from a work event, sitting at a red light not far from his condo. Somebody in the car next to him revved their engine. He hadn’t been planning on racing tonight, but driving a shiny new Porsche around sometimes attracted that kind of attention, and he wasn’t gonna turn it down now.

The car next to him rolled down the passenger window. Normally Tyson never would’ve looked twice at this car - it was a Volvo station wagon, almost the same color as Gabe’s Ferrari but still more of a ‘90s mom car than anything else. 

“Hey, looking for trouble?” the guy in the passenger seat asked. He had an accent Tyson didn’t recognize. He looked familiar for some reason, but Tyson didn’t think too hard about why. 

“Sure,” he said. “Think you can handle it?”

The guy didn’t say anything, just grinned and rolled the window back up. He had the same bright blond hair as Gabe. Tyson shook his head. He was obsessed, he could admit that to himself. Ahead of him, the light turned green but neither of them moved. It wasn’t that late but the streets were empty. The weather had turned colder and the nights were getting longer. Summer was long gone and there wouldn’t be as many races when ice and snow closed roads and made driving more dangerous. All of a sudden Tyson was looking forward to this race.

The light turned yellow. Tyson’s hand gripped the gearshift as he watched the light turn red, the opposing light turned green, and a lone car drove through the intersection. He looked over at the red car again. Sure, Volvo had made some decent cars, but none of them would be able to stand up to his Porsche. This guy was either really reckless or really stupid, maybe some terrible combination of the two.

The opposite light turned yellow. Tyson sucked in a breath, focused on the traffic light ahead of them. The whole night tensed, a moment poised on the edge of a fall. He eased off the clutch, ready to hit the gas the instant the colors changed.

The light turned green. Tyson stood on the gas and the Porsche took off, over 400 horsepower propelling the car into the night like a shot. He revved it up in second, hitting 60 miles an hour easily, then 70, 80. By the time he shifted into third he’d long passed the turnoff for his street, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was this feeling, invincibility and speed and unholy power. He figured he’d passed the Volvo in the dust, but a flash of red outside the window caught his eye. 

Impossibly, the Volvo sped past him, the blond guy waving at him from the open passenger window. Tyson stared after it. There was no way that could’ve happened, not without rewriting the laws of physics.

The car was stopped at a light up ahead, but the driver had switched lanes. Tyson veered left, refusing to stop behind this asshole. He rolled down the passenger window, ready to give this guy a piece of his mind. All his questions died on his lips when he saw the driver.

“Nice car,” Gabe said, his arm leaning out the open window. “I’ve always thought 911s are sexy.”

“Why - How…” Tyson started to ask too many questions at once. He narrowed his eyes at Gabe. “What did you do, get rid of the Ferrari but keep the engine?”

Gabe laughed. “These things came stock with 240 horsepower.” He patted the dashboard. 

“Yeah, and that’s only like half of what mine has,” Tyson said. He knew he sounded like a kid and he didn’t care. “This is basically a racecar.”

Gabe leaned further out the window so he could say, “I had a friend turn this into a racecar.”

“That’s pretty dangerous,” Tyson said. 

“So’s street racing,” Gabe said. “I like to live on the edge. Plus I love seeing people’s faces when I beat them with a station wagon.”

“Oh, fuck you, Landesnerd,” Tyson snapped.

“You wish,” Gabe shot back.

Tyson turned away. He could feel his face burning, knew he was blushing like crazy. When the light turned green, he sped off again, not caring that Gabe could catch him in his stupid turbocharged Volvo. He hoped he’d let him go.

He drove for a long time that night, hoping to clear his mind. The radio played some sports broadcast Tyson mostly ignored, too lost in thought. In some ways Gabe was exactly as he remembered: confident, hot, a great driver. Memory had a funny way of hiding flaws though, so he’d forgotten Gabe’s confidence edged on cockiness, that his jokes could turn from funny to mean. Despite all of that, Tyson still couldn’t stop thinking about him.

No matter how much he tried to convince himself he wasn’t, Tyson did a double-take every time he saw a dark red car, hoping for a familiar Ferrari or that stupid Volvo. There couldn’t possibly be that may of either car in the Denver area. And okay, maybe Nate was right, maybe Tyson was pouting because he hadn’t seen Gabe in weeks. He’d only seen him twice and they hadn’t talked much either time, but perfect people didn’t just walk into your life every day. The next time he saw Gabe, Tyson was determined not to be a total idiot.

Instead of letting himself go completely insane, Tyson tried to focus on the good things in his life: on driving just for the joy of it, on actually hanging out with Nate outside of work, on how well he was doing at his job. After working at the dealership for almost two years, Tyson was pretty good at understanding different kinds of customers and getting them to actually make deals. He could spot a midlife crisis from across the parking lot and he knew which ones would actually shell out for a Maserati and who just wanted to test drive one. At this point he could handle pretty much anything.

“Dude, look.” Nate grabbed his arm and dragged him behind the reception counter early one Saturday morning. Tyson’s shift had just started and he wasn’t sure he’d had enough coffee to deal with whatever was going on.

“What?” Tyson asked, looking around. Everything looked pretty normal, if a little quiet for a Saturday morning. 

Nate pulled him a couple feet to the right, pointing out the window in a way he probably thought was subtle. “Isn’t that Gabe?”

“Oh shit,” Tyson said, looking out at the parking lot. Gabe was walking towards the dealership, looking crazy hot in a leather jacket and jeans. “Oh shit,” Tyson repeated, dragging Nate with him as he ducked below the counter. “Does my hair look okay? Should I undo another button? Wait, do you think I should borrow your tie?”

“Tys, calm down,” Nate said. “Let go of my tie, you look fine without one.” He held his phone up so Tyson could use the camera to fix his hair. He usually tried to look nice for work, but there was a difference between looking professional and looking good for a crush. 

Tyson stood back up a few seconds before Gabe walked in the door. He spotted Tyson pretty quickly and walked over, leaning on the counter.

“Looking to add to your collection?” Tyson asked. 

“Uh, no,” Gabe said, looking around the showroom for the first time. The McLaren parked in the front window caught his eye for a minute before he turned back to Tyson. “Actually, I’m here to talk to you.”

Tyson and Nate looked at each other. “I’m fine out here,” Nate said. “Go on.”

Tyson led Gabe back to an empty office near the back and shut the door. “Hey,” he said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “What’s up?”

“This place is cool,” Gabe said, looking through the office’s glass wall to the showroom floor. “You like working here?”

“Yeah,” Tyson said. “Being around sports cars all the time is pretty great. Kinda makes up for the people.” 

Gabe raised his eyebrows. “You have a favorite?”

“I’m pretty partial to my car,” Tyson said. “But everybody loves the McLaren. I mean, how can you not?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gabe said. “I’ve heard the brakes could be better.” Tyson rolled his eyes. Of course Gabe would find flaws in the average guy’s dream car. “Are you working next weekend?”

Tyson looked up at him. His hands were in his pockets as he studied the Lamborghini parked just outside the office. “I don’t think so,” he said. It was his only whole weekend off all month, but he wouldn’t give that up for just anything. He wanted to know what Gabe was planning before he agreed to it. “Why?”

Gabe turned around and took a few steps towards him. “There’s a track event at High Plains on Saturday,” he said. Tyson knew that - it was part of the reason he’d asked for the weekend off. Josty hasn’t stopped texting him about it for weeks. He was planning on going, along with Nate and pretty much everyone else Tyson knew. “There’s a few spots still open. You interested?”

“Are you asking me on a date, Landeskog?” he asked. 

“Not exactly,” Gabe said. “I’m asking you for a rematch.” 

“You own a Ferrari and you’re taking your Volvo to a track event?” Tyson couldn’t believe this guy.

“I never said that,” he said. “Are you in or what?”

Tyson pretended to think about it, even though he’d made up his mind before Gabe had actually asked him. “Let’s make this interesting,” he said. “If I’m faster than you, you go on a date with me.” 

Gabe grinned. “Deal,” he said, stepping even closer so they could shake on it. 

Tyson walked him back out to the reception area, unable to keep the smile off his face. It wasn’t until after Gabe left that he realized they’d never made a wager on what would happen if Gabe won. 

“What was that about?” Nate asked.

“He wanted to ask if I was going to High Plains next weekend,” Tyson said. “Because he wants a rematch.”

“Holy shit,” Nate said. “He tracked you down at work to ask you that?”

“Yep,” Tyson said. “So I’m gonna kick his ass and then I’m gonna take him on the best date he’s ever been on.”

* * *

Being at the race track felt like a weird sort of family reunion. Pretty much everyone he knew was there. Tyson Jost found him about 30 seconds after he got there, looking smug. “Barrie, you ready to lose?” 

“In your dreams,” Tyson said. “Can’t believe you’re showing your face here after what happened last time.” 

“You weren’t even here last time,” he said. “It wasn’t really that bad.”

What happened last time was that he lost it the first turn of every lap. One of his friends recorded the one of him spinning out, and just about everyone who had ever raced cars in the Denver area had seen it by the next day.

“Sure, buddy,” he said. “Everyone’s seen the video.” 

“Yeah, well, that was last year,” Josty said. “I’ve improved since then.”

“Alright,” Tyson said. He’d believe that when he saw it. “I’ll see you out there.”

Tyson had raced at High Plains a few times before, so he knew the course. There was something about racing on a track, even one as challenging as this, that felt a little safe - racing against a clock just wasn’t as exhilarating as racing against someone in the next lane. Still, he was glad for the practice lap everyone got, remembering the turns of the course and knowing exactly how late he could brake going into corners. He was feeling pretty confident, until he watched Gabe’s practice lap.

“Damn,” Nate said. “He’s good.”

“Anyone looks good driving a Ferrari,” Tyson said. Nate was right, though; it didn’t matter if he was driving a turbocharged ‘90s Volvo or a $200,000 sports car. Gabe was a great driver, and he looked really good doing it. Tyson needed to win this date. 

He was on his way over to his car when he ran into Gabe. “You asked me here and then didn’t even find me to say hi,” Tyson said. “That’s pretty rude.”

“I wanted to check out the track first,” Gabe said. He shifted so he was holding his helmet tucked under one arm, grabbing Tyson’s shoulder with the other. “Glad you could make it. You ready for this?”

“Oh, I was born ready,” Tyson said, trying and failing to convince himself his heart was pounding because of the race and not because Gabe was still holding his shoulder. 

“Good.” Gabe squeezed his shoulder, his fingers trailing down Tyson’s arm as he dropped his hand. “Guess I’ll see you out there, I think I’m a couple spots behind you.” 

“See you,” Tyson said faintly as Gabe walked to his car. He could still feel the path Gabe’s fingers had trailed down his arm. 

Tyson couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he got in his car and lined up to start, but his smile disappeared the longer it took them to get going. The track was running way behind for some reason, and he was getting impatient. He was not handling it well. 

“Hey, princess, are we doin’ this?” he yelled out his window at no one in particular.

Gabe’s friend Mikko was waiting in his car ahead of Tyson. He opened the car door so he could look back at him. “You’re going down, Tyson,” he said. He drew his finger across his throat in what had to be the least threatening intimidation tactic Tyson had ever seen. 

“Get back in the car, you pigeon,” Tyson called back. He was pretty sure he could hear Gabe laughing from somewhere behind him. 

By the time the laps actually started, Tyson was restless and full of nervous energy. All of it faded away once he was finally waiting at the start line. The engine roared when he engaged launch control, and as soon as he was signaled to start he flew off the line. He wasn’t thinking about anything except putting down a personal best.

He kept it in second around the first few turns, shifting up to fourth onto the straight so he could hit 120. Tyson knew he needed to make up as much time as he could now to make up for all the turns later in the course. He pushed it more than was smart through some of the curves but kept control of the car, maintaining as much speed as possible. His pulse pounded in his ears, but his hands were steady on the wheel. He felt like he was flying. 

When he crossed the finish line, he knew he’d done well - could feel it as he sucked in a breath, adrenalin slowly draining out of his system. The sunlight reflecting off Mikko’s car was blinding, but he could still read his time on the board beyond it: 1:52.06. Not a personal best, but damn close. He grinned. He was so winning this date.

“Nice lap,” Gabe said. They were watching the second group of drivers on the course, one eye on the track and one on the scoreboard. Tyson’s name was still near the top.

“Thanks,” he said, leaning against a guard rail. “So, you have plans after this? I’m thinking dinner.”

“It’s not over yet,” Gabe said, but he was smiling back at Tyson.

He pointed to the scoreboard. “Not to brag, but I did pretty good.”

“You did great,” Gabe said. “But I can do better.”

“Prove it,” Tyson said. He didn’t want to lose, but he loved the challenge, loved Gabe’s confidence and the way it made him push himself to do better.

“I will.” Gabe leaned next to Tyson, shoulder to shoulder. As they watched the laps, Gabe moved closer until they were pressed side to side, Gabe’s fingers idly tracing patterns on Tyson’s arm. He watched the cars move around the track without seeing them, too distracted by Gabe next to him. 

By the time Tyson got back in his car for the next lap, all he could think about was Gabe, the way he’d leaned close to talk to Tyson as cars drove past, the way he hadn’t stopped touching him. He kept his eyes on the course, but he’d lost the focus he had earlier that morning and crossed the finish line two seconds slower than his first time of the day and almost three seconds slower than Gabe. 

Tyson stomped up to him. “You’re distracting me on purpose,” he said. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gabe said, crossing his arms over his chest. Tyson watched him move, admiring the way Gabe’s biceps looked in his white t-shirt. “I’m just enjoying this nice day.”

Tyson glared at him. “I’m gonna win this,” he said. 

Gabe smiled. “You’re really competitive,” he said. “It’s kinda hot.” Tyson stared as Gabe walked away. There was no way Gabe wasn’t distracting him on purpose. His plan wouldn’t work, though, because Tyson was as determined as ever. 

He put up some good times, but by the end of the day he never did better than his first lap time. Gabe’s best time was 1:51.98, less than a second faster than Tyson’s. He’d lost. It stung, doing so well and still not being good enough.

He found Gabe in the parking lot at the end of the day. Track cars were being loaded onto trailers around them, people calling out their goodbyes before going their separate ways. 

“Nice driving today,” Gabe said.

Tyson shrugged. “Thanks, but you still won. What do you want?”

Gabe tilted his head in pretend thoughtfulness. “How about a kiss?” he said.

“What?” Tyson asked, sure he’d heard wrong. He had been ready for Gabe to tell him to fuck off, ready for him to demand something humiliating.

“A kiss,” Gabe repeated. He pointed at his lips, grinning. Tyson was still convinced he was hallucinating. He didn’t move for several seconds, only spurred to action when Gabe looked like he was reconsidering, like he was about to say something else. 

For a first kiss, it was objectively terrible. Tyson’s lips landed on Gabe’s teeth. Gabe almost poked him in the eye. Tyson was pretty sure he stepped on Gabe’s toes when he jumped forward. They both pulled back quickly, Gabe laughing in that way people had when they were trying to cover up an awkward situation.

“No, wait,” Tyson said. “That was a terrible victory kiss. We’re doing that again.”

“Okay,” Gabe whispered, already leaning towards Tyson. He rested his hands on Gabe’s chest, letting Gabe pull him in with a hand around his waist. The kiss started tentative, a soft press of lips, but after a few seconds Gabe’s hands slid lower down Tyson’s back. Tyson pushed Gabe backwards until he walked into his car. Gabe pulled him in by his belt loops, pressing one of his legs between Tyson’s. 

Someone whistled at them. “Get a room!” Nate yelled as he drove by. This close, Gabe’s smile was a little overwhelming.

“So,” he said. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“No,” Tyson said slowly. “Why?”

“You wanna get dinner?” Gabe asked. 

“Tonight?” Tyson asked. “With you?”

“Yeah,” Gabe said. “Look, Tyson, I like you. I know you wanted to win this bet but I wanted to go on a date with you either way. Unless you don’t want to -”

“No, I do, I totally do,” Tyson said. Gabe liked him. Gabe liked him and he wanted to go on a date tonight. With Tyson. “Are you ready? Let’s go right now.” 

Gabe laughed. “I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

“Deal.”

Fifty-seven minutes later, Gabe pulled up in front of Tyson’s condo in his Volvo. They got burgers and milkshakes from a drive-in and ate them in the car, the radio on low as they talked for hours. Gabe let Tyson drive his car on the way home and he refused to admit it was pretty fun to drive, even though it was. 

Their second date was to a hockey game, because Gabe’s law firm had season tickets and Tyson, good Canadian boy that he was, couldn’t resist a hockey game. Gabe tried to cook dinner for their third date, but Tyson kept kissing him until the food burned and they ended up ordering pizza and watching movies instead. After a few months, Tyson stopped counting official dates. Gabe started coming with him to events at the dealership and Tyson went with Gabe to his office holiday party. It was alarmingly domestic and frighteningly easy, even though they still argued like they did when they first met. They’d been together for over a year, and it hadn’t always been perfect but it was probably the happiest Tyson had ever felt.

Tyson sat in his car, waiting to pick Gabe up for dinner. There was a ring hidden in a box in the center console. He was more nervous than he’d been before any race in his life, but he was pretty sure this time he would win.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you wanna talk cars my main blog is [here](http://springsteen.tumblr.com) and if you wanna talk hockey follow me [here](http://segwins.tumblr.com).


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